January 2011

I used to think that, because I cried a lot, I was good at feeling my feelings. I thought, there’s no way I am “stuffing” my feelings with food because I cry a lot. If I were using food in this way, then I wouldn’t cry. Yeah, I was in denial. I was also fascinated by some of my friends who never seemed to cry, even in situations that would have had me bawling my eyes out. I thought they just weren’t in touch with their feelings.

Back in 2005, when I started using Emotional Freedom Technique (EFT), I learned what self-acceptance was and lost a lot of weight. And I stopped crying so much. I thought to myself, oh, now that I am thinner, I must be happier.

And don’t get me wrong, I was happier, but not specifically because I was thinner. It’s because I was more accepting of myself.

If you know me or have been reading this blog for any length of time, you know that I went on to regain half the weight I had lost and I sunk back down into a morass of shame/blame/frustration and “why me?” Acceptance went right out the window. And in came the tears. Again.

That’s when I started this blog. I started it with the intention of trying to figure what the hell was wrong with me. Why couldn’t I just lose weight and keep it off? I know a lot of weight loss bloggers are all about the calories in and the calories out, but I didn’t want to focus on that because it made my brain go to mush. I believed (and still do) that if I could just get my emotions in order, then I’d stop bingeing…I’d stop using food to stuff my feelings.

One big step in this journey was realizing that feeling my feelings couldn’t destroy me. Along with that was realizing that crying, in and of itself, does not mean that I am feeling my feelings.

As fellow blogger and amazing life coach Joy Tanklsey points out here, “sometimes we cry because of the suffering we’ve created by trying to avoid our feelings.”

And that is exactly what I did for most of my life. I cried because I was suffering because I didn’t like myself because I couldn’t control myself because I stuffing my feelings with food and round and round and round it went.

When I started practicing acceptance again, everything got better.

With the recent death of my father, I’ve been crying more frequently and thinking about the quality of my tears.

I attended a recent Southeastern Connecticut Women’s Network luncheon and the guest speaker was creative and marketing genius Maria Miranda, who’s talk “All That And A Bag Of Chips,” was a tribute to her Dad. As crazy as it sounds, I wasn’t thinking ahead of time that her talk might move me to tears. But there I was, about half way through her talk, tearing up. And by the time she was almost done, I just couldn’t hold it back any longer! I held my napkin to my eyes and just cried.

It felt SO good! And poor Maria was trying to hold it together herself (and she did) and in the middle of her talk she looked at me, smiled, and said (kindly), “Karen, stop it.” Later, in an email I wrote to her and apologized for disrupting her talk. She replied, “It is I who should apologize for pointing you out. It was just at that moment I was close to completely losing it…and in a way that yawning is contagious…crying about lost fathers is equally as contagious.”

(By the way, Maria and a colleague of hers at Miranda Creative designed the cover for my book, which I will be sharing very soon!)

I am not ashamed that I’ve been crying more lately, or even in the middle of luncheons, because I recognize these tears for what they represent: me feeling my feelings. I am feeling the loss of my father, which is completely normal and natural. These tears are not tainted with self-imposed suffering. These are quality tears.

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How fitting that today we celebrate the life of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., who had a thing or two to say about the power of love:

‎”I have decided to stick with love. Hate is too great a burden to bear.”

and

“Darkness cannot drive out darkness; only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate; only love can do that.”

____________________

Karen from Waisting Time and Amalfi Girl from Eat Run Have Fun have given me an award: The Stylish Blogger! How about that? I am honored…and relieved, because to be honest, I haven’t known what to write about lately*. And being given this award will help me do something that I don’t often do: promoting others’ blogs.

The Terms of Acceptance of the Award:

• Post and link back to the person(s) who gave you this award;
• Share seven things about yourself;
• Pay it forward and give the award to some of your favorite bloggers;
• Contact these bloggers and tell them they’ve won!

Seven things about me:

• I’m going to be a grandmother without ever having been a mother! My stepdaughter and her husband are due April 1
• I won a dance contest at a club in the Bahamas. I was wearing a leather mini skirt and fishnet stockings. Oh the 80s!
• I met my husband online in the “old days” of the Internet (1994). I placed a personal ad on AOL’s Romance Connection and his was one of ~250 responses I got.
• Up until a couple of years ago I didn’t believe in God. I do now, but have no denomination or religion. To me God = positive energy.
• I love to play Scrabble (especially on Facebook) and am quite competitive.
• I prefer summer. I used to like having four seasons, but honestly? If it never got below 60 degrees again I’d be happy.
• I can finally say this: “I’ve written a book and it’s in the process of getting published!”

And now, to pass this along. Here is a list of blogs that inform, nourish, inspire, awe, and humor me:

Dare To Become

Everyday Bright

Gravel & Rust

Health For The Whole Self

Nourishing The Soul

Weightless

Medicinal Marzipan

Eat Move Write

263 And Counting

Big Girl Bombshell

Ascension

Being Joy

Abundant Self Care

*So yeah, I’ve been feeling rather…blank. Nothing excites or  interests me. It’s probably winter and hormones and my father’s death.

Although I know it’s temporary, it’s also rather disconcerting.

It’s probably a good thing because there’s been a lot to feel in the past few weeks and so feeling “nothing” is kind of a relief.

I’ve also been thinking a lot about the expectations that people have when someone dies…the expectation that you’ll feel devastated and unimaginable grief.

I haven’t felt that. I have felt a sadness I’ve never quite experienced before. I’ve cried like a little girl. A lot. But so far there hasn’t been an overwhelming sense of grief that I can’t handle. Maybe it hasn’t sunk in completely? Or maybe I know it’s all going to be okay because that’s what he always taught me?

I’m not complaining. In fact, I am grateful.

And then there’s the whole aspect of food and weight and my body, which have always been at the front and center of my brain but are just not any more. And I just bought jeans in a smaller size.

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Not that long ago my father told me that he wondered what he might have accomplished if it weren’t for his anxiety. We’d had conversations about anxiety over the years and as I got older, the conversations became more candid.

He told me about how his anxiety impacted his relationships and how he felt that he hadn’t lived up to the expectations that others (and he himself) may have had for him. My Dad had gone to a small, elite private high school and many of his classmates had gone on to do great things. They’d gone to elite colleges and universities, had high-powered careers and made a lot of money.

Although my Dad didn’t do those things, he was proud of his classmates who had. In fact, he was often impressed by others. Something that stands out in my mind is how often he praised others, or was in awe of others, for what they had done with their lives.

That’s not to say that my Dad’s life wasn’t worthy of praise or pride, at least not in my eyes. But I am starting to get some clarity about something. I think that one of the reasons he may have focused so much on the greatness of others was to take the attention off what he didn’t do in his life. And I think that I have been afraid to pursue some of my dreams for some of the same reasons.

I happen to think that he was a great man and that he didn’t have to make a lot of money or have a high-powered career in order to be a valuable person or to make a contribution to society. He was loving and he was loved. He was a great listener. He helped people feel good about themselves. I believe he left us all in better condition than when he found us.

And as I have been thinking about this, I realized that I’ve been struggling with something for quite a while without really knowing it. I feel like I have two opposing forces within me: the selfish(?) desire to be heard (which is why I write) and the desire to be a more selfless person, one who focuses on or helps others.

And I find it curious as to why I judge my desire to be heard so harshly…as being a selfish act. I very much believe that what comes easily to me is valuable to others. I believe that if someone has a gift then they should use it and that in using it, it becomes valuable to others. And so, very soon, a book based on this blog will be published.

I’ve been told that sharing my story is inspiring and valuable, but I have also been told that, in doing so, I’m self-serving and that I’ve become something…bad. Well, that’s not exactly what was said, but that’s why I took from it.

So what if both things are true? What if who I am and what I want is both selfish and selfless? What if it’s a not a matter of either/or, but both/and? And what if it’s okay if both are true?

These are the kinds of thoughts I’ve been having ever since my Dad died. And in the days after my father’s death, amazing things happened. There was a lot of love, a lot of clarity, a lot of laughing, and, surprisingly, not as much crying as I thought there’d be. My sister, brother and I spent a couple of wonderful days together, with my father’s wife and many of his friends.

I was in awe.

Which brings me to the point of this post. A few weeks ago, well before my father died, I heard about a different way of thinking about resolution-making and goal-setting; instead of making statements about what you want to achieve or do, pick a word that encompasses the way you want to feel. I was intrigued. Then a friend pointed me in the direction of Christine Kane’s “Your Word Of The Year Discovery Tool.”

As Christine says, “Intention, even in the form of a single word, is unfathomably powerful. Resolutions are fine, but they are often motivated by ‘shoulds.’ [exactly, that’s why I don’t do them]. A word, however, contains energy, images and meaning. These are things our hearts and souls get excited about. And this is how transformation begins. Rarely does deep transformation happen because of ‘shoulds’.”

And so I brainstormed a bunch of words, waiting for the right one to come to me. I allowed myself time. I didn’t care if it took me until AFTER the new year. I wanted to make sure that I chose the right word…one that would feel powerful and make me say “YES!!”

Around the same time, I was contemplating creating a vision board and I had already found a bunch of pictures, images, words and phrases that resonated with how I want to feel in 2011. And there in the pile was a clipping that said “the awe tour.” Awe. AWE!! I want to  be IN AWE in 2011. I want to be in awe of others and myself.

I had planned to write a blog post on New Year’s Day announcing my word. Then my Dad died and I wrote this post instead. Talk about awe. And what has unfolded in the days since he died has me in awe.

I don’t expect each and every day will be hugely awe-inspiring (or else I’d wear myself out!), but I believe there is awe to be had in simple, little things. That’s how my Dad lived his life and it’s how I want to live mine.

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This is the hardest and strangest post I’ve ever written.

I need to start with my anxiety and vomit phobia, because I’ve written about that recently. I’ve seen my therapist three or four times and there’s been a lot of getting-to-know-you conversation, which is what I expected, although I had been hoping for some useful tools or methods for dealing with it.

Then on Tuesday something upsetting occurred, which resulted in me having to quickly and forcefully reestablish a boundary I was hoping not to need. I am not going to write about that, however. Suffice it to say that it was painful and scary, but at the same time I am proud of myself for how I handled it, without any drama, finger-pointing, or anger. It was a HUGE step for me and as painful as it was, I felt like something had shifted, like a weight had been lifted.

On Thursday morning (New Year’s Eve Eve) I called my Dad and had a wonderful talk with him. I am not sure if I have shared this here, but my Dad also struggled with anxiety and panic attacks. And he had the same specific phobia. We often joked about it and traded stories that would make other people cringe, but he got it. He got me. He also felt guilty because he thought it was his fault, that he’d “given” it to me.

That evening I was feeling peaceful and energetic and ready for the new year. I decided to clean out and rearrange my office. I was in bed by 10 p.m.

At midnight I awoke feeling strange. I was very hot and felt very bad. I got up to go to the bathroom and the next thing I knew, I could hear my husband’s voice calling my name and I could feel his hands on me but he seemed to be very far away. I had passed out cold and was flat on my face on the bathroom floor! As I came to, I had an overwhelming urge to evacuate my bowels, which I did a couple of times (thankfully on the toilet). Then came the cold sweat.

I knew what was coming but I felt strangely at peace. My husband brought me a blanket and a pillow and I waited on the bathroom floor. A little while later…maybe an hour? The phone rang. Tim answered it and I could tell something was wrong. Someone was in the hospital. My Dad had a massive heart attack. We were told it would be a matter of hours before he died.

I laid there, sick on the floor. I heard what Tim said and I fully grasped the situation, but I didn’t feel anything other than calm. A little while later I sat up and vomited into the toilet several times. It wasn’t that bad. I almost laughed when I was done. Tim was standing at the door and I said, “It’s okay. I’m okay. What a tribute to my Dad, eh?”

After a while I called my father’s wife. She said he was still hanging in there but that there was no hope. I tried to comfort her as best I could. I had started to feel better, physically, but the impact of what she said was finally sinking in. I hung up and went back to bed and cried. I stayed awake, waiting for the call.

At one point I called his wife and asked her to hold the phone up to his ear so I could say goodbye. I told him how much I loved him and that I would miss him so much. I told him it was okay to go and I thanked him for making it okay. Because there really isn’t any other way to describe what happened and how it felt. As my father lay dying, he reached out through time and space to make it okay for me to vomit.

Dad finally died late in the afternoon on New Year’s Eve.

“Everything works out the way it is supposed to.” ~ Christopher Roberts Coxe 3/31/35 – 12/31/10

It does indeed, Dad and I love you!!

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